Broken God
by The Archaic Minister
Summary: Fool.


Pain.

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Your existence is broken. Try as you would, you could not prevent it. You could not prevent anything.

Just give up.

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Despite having supposedly every benign factor and advantage at your disposal, you were still crushed effortlessly; even as the gods smiled down upon you, promising total victory for your cause as they held you, preciously, in the palms of their divine hands.

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Even then, despite the will of your so-called 'gods', you find yourself at your enemy's feet, pathetically flailing and croaking for life like a fish on land.

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The Imperial Protectorate of Cartharinnus, the Guardian Units of the Nations, The Majestic Twelve, plus every friend and ally you have ever known.

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Well over a trillion of the Universe's finest soldiers and warriors stormed his lair in the most massive and destructive invasion of all time.

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Now, all around you lies a mass grave, submerged in what seems to be an entire lake of blood and entrails, not to mention the remains of still-sparking machinery.

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This unimaginable manifestation of pure evil must, and will be, destroyed in this final climactic strike to save the Universe.

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That's what you thought. That's what anyone would think. It must be done.

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You'd read many a Homeric epic, heard tales of bravery and triumph over the devil's men amidst catastrophic slaughter.

The sword of justice will always triumph, no matter what the cost may be.

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This is because, the one we call God has arranged it so: even the greatest of evils fall before the will of the Lord.

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You're so stupid. All of you. Each and every one of you.

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Stupid, stupid, stupid.

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On the cold, bloodstained metallic floor, croaking and weakly flailing like a fish on land; you're all that's left of the finest armada of all time.

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When you first looked upon him, he was Satan, punishable by God.

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Now, as you lie utterly defeated and on the verge of death, the last remaining Grand Master becomes God. No, he has always been, yet you still chose hopelessly to resist.

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Every last one of you fools.

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Even if the so-called 'God' you endearingly worship truly did exist, His divine intervention would have virtually no effect whatsoever on this evil.

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After all, you weren't crushed so effortlessly by just anything; it was god who did this to you. God did this to all of you.

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You stupid, stupid, fools.

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Once, there were not one, but two gods in this realm; the Legendary Number Nine was capable of repelling and driving Artemis to the other end of the universe, and had done so multiple times to keep Mobius safe.

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But Artemis was completely invincible, and he was not. Although Artemis stood no chance against Nine, it was still impossible for him to die.

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Nine had sacrificed all ten thousand years of his life in order to destroy the metallic menace that had rampaged the Universe over for thousands of years.

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The world became headless.

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Artemis had used the Second Grand Master as bait for Nine, and had betrayed the Fifth, his closest 'friend', shortly after your army had arrived.

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Mobius had been only a distant memory for several months now, the prince of the elite Cartharis had been assassinated, and all was eternally doomed.

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Destiny.

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Your destiny was to come here, as the messiah of your people.

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Your destiny was to fall before Artemis, even as the entire Universe stood united against his Novus Ordo Seclorum.

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Now you lie at his feet, and he is completely unscathed; all the while, you're croaking and flailing for life, like a fish on land.

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Fool.

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You failed. Your friends' corpses lie scattered all around you. The Fifth Grand Master's remains lie behind your foe.

Only you are left.

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You want to cry, to moan, to lament like a lost child, but no sound comes out.

There's no will.

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You couldn't have prevented any of this no matter how hard you tried to, but it was still all your fault.

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Failure.

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God's brother was the last to die before you.

He died laughing, hysterically. He had gone insane. Happy to have his life ended by his brother's hand.

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You're too pathetic.

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Artemis lifts you by the wrist off the floor, your fur drenched in the blood of your own comrades.

You have become so sore that you do not feel pain any longer.

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A cruel, all-knowing smile is glued to God's face as always.

He whispers into your ear, almost loudly.

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"This is your story. It is mine much the same."

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"And thus, this is where it all ends..." his organic eye stares sickeningly into both of yours; he looks ready to stab you to death with just that glare alone.

His words are poison.

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"...For both of us."

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End file.
